


Miss You Terribly [2P!England/Oliver Kirkland]

by Zuliet



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 12:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3488912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zuliet/pseuds/Zuliet





	Miss You Terribly [2P!England/Oliver Kirkland]

[Inspired by 'Terrible Things' by Mayday Parade]

 

Crash! Clap! Boom! 

Thunder rumbled and growled from the brewing hurricane overhead. Oliver Kirkland sat with the blanket pulled over his head and a pillow wrapped around his ears. Warm tears flooded from his eyes, cascading down his cheeks in rivers. He tried to sink into a happy place; one full of sunshine and cupcakes, but it still had a looming grey cloud in it. A cloud that was created by a hole in his heart. When the thunder clapped again, the man screamed and pushed the pillow firmly to his ears.

"It’s just a little noise, Oliver," he told himself. "It can't hurt you." But he still jumped as lightning illuminated the room. He felt pathetic, being a grown man afraid of the thunder and lightning. How he ever managed to raise a set of twins, he'd never know. How they turned out the way they did, what with having a cowardly father when they were so mean and tough, he would never know. Their mother's spunk, is what he would always answer himself. But this always lead to loneliness, and he sitting quietly in his room going through old pictures and crying for a few hours with the door locked. Usually he'd drag his sons out for a day together after these episodes.

Thunder roared around him again, and the small man screamed once more. He groaned, angry at himself.

"This would be different if [Name] were here. She always used to say it was alright that I was afraid, and hold me until the storm was done. Oh, I wish she were," he said, another clap of thunder drowned out the creaking of his bedroom door. Oliver squealed again as pressure applied itself to the bed, and the blanket was pulled off. "[Name]?!- oh, it's just you boys." Perched on the edge of the bed was his son Al, while his son Matt sat cross legged on the end of the mattress.

"What are you two doing up?" inquired Oliver, jumping as another thunder clap shook the old manor.

"For that reason," stated Matt tiredly.

"How the hell are we supposed to sleep with you screaming at every round of thunder?" Al yawned, combing his fingers through his dark locks. Oliver sighed, hugging the pillow to his body.

"I know. I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I wouldn't be so bad if your mother was still alive." Al and Matt exchanged a glance, before turning back to their father.

"Look, since none of us are going to get much sleep until this passes," Matt started, "why don't we go downstairs? Al can start a fire, and I'll put on coffee or something."

"As long as the fire's only in the fireplace." Al rolled his eyes,

"Ya got no faith in me, old man," he groaned, Oliver scoffed.

"I have faith that you'll burn the house down if you're not careful."

"I'll be careful, alright? Now c'mon." Oliver gripped the pillow and clung onto Al's arm as the trio made their way downstairs. Matt broke off to start something warm while Al and Oliver proceeded through to the living room. About the time Al finally got the fire going, Matt emerged with drinks; coffee for he and his twin and Earl Grey for his father made just the way he liked it. It was silent for a moment, before another growled of thunder ripped through the air. Oliver jumped, his tea sloshing the slightest bit. 

"Why don't we gave any pictures of ma hanging up?" asked Al abruptly, Oliver flinched and Matt shot Al a warning look. They'd talked about it before, about finding an appropriate time to ask about their mother. Matt didn't think then was the right time.

"I...uh...what do you mean?" stuttered the Brit, shakily placing his cup and saucer on the coffee table. Al started absently into the fire, his favourite sports mug gripped between his palms.

"You never talk about her," he growled. "You've never even shown us any pictures." Oliver stared at the brunette a moment before looking into the flames himself. 

"I never realized you cared that much about a woman you've never met," he muttered. Al grunted, and set down his mug on the coffee table before he smashed it.

"Don't you think it's finally time you tell us about her? You've never even taken us to visit her grave!" he snapped, twisting roughly on the couch to stare down his father.

"Al!" growled Matt, his tone a warning one, but Oliver waved him off.

"It’s alright, Mattie, Al here's got a point. You two are nineteen, I think you can handle it – even if I still can't…Oh, but where to start? I guess...first meeting your mother should do the trick. It seems like so long ago, but I can still remember like it was yesterday – we were your two’s age when we met. Both of us had moved out here for college, and into the same apartment building; neither of us were too keen on the idea of having a roommate. I met her the day I moved in, actually. She was moving in that day as well, but had gotten started long before I did. So she was just about finished when I came tripping out of the elevator,” laughed Oliver. “Why your grandparents ever let me bring that old oak dresser with me, I’ll never know. But it was on a furniture mover, and I was trying to get it out of the elevator. Well, I got stuck in the doors. Luckily your mother had taken notice, and had helped me move it into my apartment, which was down the hall from hers. 

“When I saw her, I had sworn I was looking at an angel. She was so beautiful – I fell in love with her at first sight. Of course, by the time I met her, I was desperate for someone to love. Most people in my hometown didn’t like me, or didn’t see me that way. So I was usually lonely. Anyway after she helped with the dresser, I helped her finish bringing up boxes and then she helped me move into my unit. I honestly didn’t expect to ever talk to her again after that. The only thing I could think of was her, but I doubted she’d want to talk to a clumsy, shy boy like me. She was a lot like you two, actually. Basically my opposite, but I suppose that’s why we were attracted to each other.

“To be honest, I thought she was pulling a prank on me when she knocked on my door a few days later, asking if I wanted to hang out. I almost laughed in her face, but the look she had told me she was genuine. That day was the first of many when we went out on the town, just two kids in a big city neither of had ever been too before. It was frightening, yet exhilarating. Or perhaps I caught the exhilaration from your mother. That was the kind of person she was, after all. Her excitement, her smile, her laughter – it was all contagious and effected everyone around her. It was quite the sight. Even your grumpy uncle Francois couldn’t help but be in a better mood. Of course, your mother used to do silly things and call him ‘Francy Pants’ until he cracked a smile. 

“She was quite something, and that’s what I loved her for. She was…rebellious, and loud, and courageous. Everything I wasn’t. A lot of times she managed to get some liquor from one of the local stores. She befriended one of the workers, and they used to smuggle bottles to her. I was never one for drinking, but she always convinced me that sharing a bottle wasn’t a bad thing. There were days where we’d drink like sailors, on a good day she swore twice as much as one. She actually had gotten in trouble in one of her classes for swearing so much once, but I knew she was just grouchy that day. Either way, she wanted to kick the habit. 

“That’s when I started the Swear Jar. She had to pay fifty cents for every swear she said. I had quite a few dollars by the end of the first week. She used to get so angry at herself, but over a course of a few months it lessened until it was only occasional. I guess I never really kicked the habit of the Swear Jar,” Oliver chuckled, his eyes glossy with tears. He leaned forward and grabbed his tea, looking into its depths. “I’ve never seen someone with so much spunk, as your mother had. Shame really that you two never met her. Looking at you two now, I can only envision your fights. It’s quite the sight. I can see her tackling the two of you when you least expect it, and wrestling like you do with each other. Your mother was a strong woman. I pretty sure she could have easily pinned you two down…oh, my [Name].” Oliver sniffed, wiping at tears he didn’t know he had. It had been so long since he talked about you to anyone, much less had to relive the few years he had spent with you. It was quiet between the three of them for a moment, only the Brit’s harsh sobs and the sound of the fire and the rain to be heard, before Oliver requested that Matt go and get the steamer trunk out of his closet. A few minutes later, Matt waddled into the living with the oaken trunk. Setting it down, Matt asked,

“What’s in here? It feels loaded down with bricks.”

“That’s the weight of memories,” Oliver chuckled sadly. Slowly, he got up and walked over to kneel in front of the trunk. Taking in a breath, the Brit clicked open the latches and raised the lid. Inside was a collection of things; six photo albums, ten rubber banded stacks of pictures, a few bottles of perfume, a couple of shirts and hoodies and a variety of other miscellaneous items that were hard to see in the fire light. Oliver took out one of the hoodies and buried his face in it for a minute or so. Sighing, he looked at his sons, who had joined him on the floor. “Most of this belonged to your mother. Hard to believe, nineteen years later, these old clothes still smell like her…oh, I miss her…I remember when I gave her this hoodie. We’d been together six months by then, and I wanted to spontaneously give her something. This stupid thing and a bouquet of her favourite flowers were the only things I could think of, but she was so happy when I did. You might have thought I’d given her riches, not some dumb sweatshirt I got at the school’s book store and a grocery store bouquet. She always told me it was the thought that mattered, and the fact I thought she was worth randomly gifting things to was truly amazing, but that she didn’t want me spend lots of money on her. After that, sometimes I would just show up and take her someplace with no plan whatsoever. 

“She did the same to me; show up with a book that I wanted that she had bought me, take me somewhere, spontaneous camping trips. Those I hated at first, but they got better as we got more gear than just a lighter and two ratty sleeping bags. There were a few times when we’d just hop in one of our cars and drive, taking every right or every other left or something, until we couldn’t see the city lights any more. Sometimes we’d lay on the hood and star gaze, or just sit in each other’s company. It was nice. I did so many things with your mother that I never would have done on my own. My appreciation for gardening comes from her. I hated dirt, but after we moved in here and she forced me to help her garden…well, I just couldn’t stop.” 

Oliver chuckled, recalling when you had first moved into the house. You two weren’t even completely unpacked, you’d only been in the house about two days, and you had insisted on starting a garden. So you drug Oliver to the garden store, picked out some nice flowers, and then whined until he helped you. Actually, you ended up having to hoist him over your shoulder and carry him outside. He was annoyed, but it had quickly dispersed when he saw how happy you were while planting the flowers. That happiness was contagious too, and he found himself with a trowel in hand asking where you wanted to plant the lilacs. 

Grabbing one of the scrap books, Oliver flipped to through the first few pages until he found what he had wanted. It was a picture of you up to your elbows in dirt after your second trip to the plant store. Your hands were bare, your face and clothes were completely smudged with mud and you had on a wide [f/c] sun hat that you’d picked up at the store. Oliver laughed through his sobs as he explained the photo. Oliver pointed out a few more pictures, explaining what was there now.  
“The house wasn’t painted yet,” Matt observed when his father flicked to the front page. Oliver shook his head,

“No, it wasn’t. We refinished this whole thing ourselves, you know. But that was before you two were born, before she got sick. The colour and refurbishing was her idea, since I kept getting splinters whenever we’d sit on the porch,” Oliver stated, more tears dripping down his face.

“Ma was beautiful,” muttered Al, scanning the photographs. Oliver nodded, and Matt uttered out a ‘yeah.’ But the Brit sighed before snapping the book shut.  
“Forgive me, boys, but I’m afraid I’m only showing you this because…life does terrible things to people. Hence why your mother isn’t here right now. I’m sure she is in spirit, though. I just wish that…that things had ended differently.” Oliver pulled out the rest of the scrap books, and the bundles of pictures. He flicked furiously through each book, trying to find the picture he wanted; he finally found it in the last one. “Here it is; the first time your mother and I said ‘I love you.’ It was kind of strange though, how we ended up saying it.”

“Why is that?” asked Matt and Al together, Oliver smiled to himself running his finger over the plastic covered Polaroid. 

“Because I never actually said it. I know it sounds bad, but we were out picnicking in the park that day. It was July, we were together about eight months, and it was sunny and warm…your mother always looked gorgeous in this sundress, but she only wore it to go picnicking. It’s a shame, really. But that day was so odd because we were sat under that maple tree by the creek on old (F/C) blanket and she just turned to me out of the blue and said, ‘Ollie, can I tell you a wonderful thing? I can’t help but notice, you’re staring at me. I know I shouldn’t say thing, but I really believe – that is, I can tell by the look in your eyes that you’re in love with me.’ I hadn’t really known what to say to that, because it was true. I did love her, I had since the day I met her. But all I could manage to do was stutter and blush, but she told me that…th-that it was alright. Because she loved me too, and then she pulled out a Polaroid camera and said that we should commemorate the moment. I don’t think I’ve ever loved a picture more in my life.” Oliver wiped at his tears, “hard to believe things can change so much in just six short years.” 

“Six?” inquired Matt, looking up from the scrapbook. Oliver nodded,

“Within six years I found the love of my life, got my dream job, dated, proposed to and married my love, had two children by her and then lost her. You two were a year old when she passed.”

“Thought you said we never met her,” Al grunted, flipping through your wedding album.

“Yes, well, you two were too young to remember. So I always counted it as you never met…oh, what’s th– I forgot her wedding dress was in here; her veil, her stockings, her shoes, even her garter.” Oliver pulled out the boxes in the bottom of the trunk and then removed the things from them one by one. Oliver stopped when he spotted a little velvet box in the corner where the wedding things had been. A moment later he numbly muttered, “So that’s where you’ve been hiding, all these years. I forgot I put you in here…” Shaking, he reached into the trunk and removed the box, cradling the tiny object in his hands before sucking in a sharp breath and opening it up. Inside, a dainty silver wedding band and diamond engagement ring rested in satin. Oliver bit his lip, trying to stop its quivering. He had saved every penny he earned for a year to buy you that. Before that he had proposed with a twine and paper ring, which he was surprised you agreed to marry him with. That twine ring was the one you requested to be buried wearing, so you’d always have a little piece of Oliver with you. 

Suddenly, Oliver burst out in sobs, both of his sons jumping to look at him. 

“I remember the day she told me she was sick,” sobbed the Brit loudly. “We were in my hometown. We had gone back because your mother said she wanted to visit with my parents because it’d been a while, but…it was actually for an appointment with a specialist. You two were at your grandparents’ house because [Name] said we needed to talk. She sat me down on the bed of our hotel room, and sighed. She’d never looked more tired, or sad than she did at that moment. Not even when she was lying on her death bed. When she had the nerve to look back at me, she was crying and said, ‘Sweets can I tell you a terrible thing? It seems I’m sick. An-And I’ve only got weeks. Please, for my sake, don’t – don’t be sad, now. Be-Beca-ause – ” Oliver’s words got drowned out by his sobs. 

Dropping the rings, Oliver hid his face in his hands as sobs ripped their way through his body. To Matt and Al it sounded like even his soul was crying. Years of pent up emotion spilled as Oliver sat and cried. Sobs turning into coughs and hiccups, and tears becoming more like flooded streams. It even effected Matt and Al, their eyes glossing over. When Oliver managed to calm down, he uttered out, 

“I – I really believe you were the gre-greatest thing that ever happened…to me…’ Th-That day it was my turn to own the Swear Jar. I fell to my knees and damned everything I could think of that could have made her sick. I didn’t know what else to do. It wasn’t long after that that she needed Hospice, but she needed constant attention, so we put her in the hospital. About a month after your birthday, she – she died. She was just so happy that she got spend, at least, one birthday that wasn’t your actual birth with you two…She died smiling, you know. I don’t know what she was dreaming of beforehand, but she whispered that she loved you two and me and…was gone…just like that. With a smile. I think that was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. I don’t think losing my father even compared to it, and you know I loved your grandfather. He was always my role model. But losing your mother that day, hearing you two cry for months about wanting your mother when I couldn’t giving her to you; that hurt. A lot. I loved her. I loved her so much.” Oliver’s sobs returned, and Al and Matt had tears down their cheeks too by this time. “Do me a favour, boys, and never fall in love. Because life does terrible things, and it could do to you what it did to me. There’s just too much to lose…[Name], I miss you terribly.”

The rest of the night was spent going through the photos, and telling stories. Al and Matt want a mother now more than ever. But not just any mother, they wanted their mother. But there was one point in the evening where all three questioned their sanity; when just over the fire crackle and wind howl, when the lightning flashed blinding bright, there was a glimpse of a face caught and whisper that said ‘I miss you, too.’

 

~


End file.
